“I’m going to take a nap. I want you two to stay together. Wake me if there’s any sign of trouble. Understand?” Reluctantly, they nodded. “Good. And, Quentin, I don’t want to hear about your fighting with Gordan while I was asleep.” Even if she deserves it, I added silently.

“But, Toby—”

“No buts. I don’t care if she’s the one starting everything. I’m too tired to deal with this on top of everything else.”

He sighed. “All right.”

Jan fixed a stern eye on Gordan. “The same thing goes for you. Both of you behave.”

“Whatever,” Gordan said, taping the gauze on my hand before starting to repack her first aid kit.

I eyed this and asked, “Can I have some painkillers first?”

Jan smiled, almost sadly. “Gordan?”

“Yeah, she can have some Tylenol.” She pulled a bottle from the kit, tossing it to Jan, who removed the cap with a flick of her thumb. I held out my unwounded hand, and she placed three small white pills on my palm as solemnly as if she were handing me the crown jewels of India. I popped them into my mouth, dry-swallowing them in a single convulsive gulp. I don’t know how we dealt with magic-burn before we had over-the-counter painkillers, but I think there’s a reason the faeries in the old stories are so incredibly cranky.

Gordan snatched the bottle out of Jan’s hand, scowling. “Be careful,” she said. “Your hand will be weak for a while, and you should really have stitches. Don’t strain yourself if you don’t want to lose a finger.”

“Got it,” I said, nodding.

“Don’t mention it.” She raked a hand through her spiky hair, shooting a glare toward Quentin. He glared right back. “I sure won’t.”

“Gordan . . .” Jan began.

“Whatever,” Gordan said. She turned, shaking her head, and walked out of the room.

Quentin scowled as he watched her go. “What a—”

“Stop right there,” I said, levering myself to my feet. Connor moved to support me. “I know she is, okay? You don’t need to stress. Just don’t hit her again.”

“Fine,” he said. The tips of his ears were red, although I couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or embarrassment.

Elliot sighed. “That went well.”

“It could’ve been worse,” I said, as diplomatically as I could.

“I’m sorry, both of you,” Jan said.

“It’s all right. We’re all stressed.” I forced a smile, leaning on Connor. “If you don’t mind, I need to fall down until my head stops hurting.”

“Of course.” Jan looked away, but not before that strange, half-aware expression had crossed her face a third time. What the hell was going on? “Elliot, are you coming?”

“Sure.”